


Personal Notes (24) Freaking Out

by longhairshortfuse



Series: Carlos's Secret Diary [24]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fear, Fluff, Helicopters, M/M, Strex, Tamika - Freeform, just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairshortfuse/pseuds/longhairshortfuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos finds the yellow helicopters and the new station owner's logo disturbing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Notes (24) Freaking Out

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to "Yellow Helicopters" again. It's much scarier when you know what's coming next!

A couple of nights ago Cecil came round for dinner and brought work with him so that we could still spend time together. He said he had to write some material for his show next day but could get on with it if I promised not to distract him too much. Given the choice of having Cecil in my apartment or being home on my own, I promised to behave and allow him to concentrate. He arrived with a notepad and a legal non-pen, settled down at my little dining table and wrote, occasionally tearing pages off and dropping balled-up paper on the floor. He said he had to write a short piece on “heart health” and perhaps I could help him work in some science.  


I made dinner while Cecil wrote, occasionally answering questions like “Where is your heart, exactly?” and “what would it look like if you could see it?” and “so how would you remove a human heart if you wanted to?” I offered to take him to the lab after dinner and show him, if we could find something recently alive to dissect, but he declined. Vehemently. He really can’t stand blood. I was making steak with sautéed potatoes so I held up a potato of about the right size and said the human heart is a lump of muscle about this big then asked how he liked his steak done. I asked him for a preview of the piece he had written but he just smiled, shook his head and put his notepad away. When I listened to his show last night I nearly choked laughing at what he had produced. I can’t believe I used to take him so seriously. Now I am beginning to understand how his sense of humour works I can barely keep my face straight during broadcasts. A year ago I thought he was an idiot. How wrong I was, he is far sharper than I am.  


On his show, Cecil referred to me as his new boyfriend. He sounded surprised to say it, like it was a revelation to him that we have a relationship that has deepened and developed. I yelled, "Are you surprised that I love you, you big dope?" at the radio because I'm reasonably sure that word will get back to him somehow.  


Hiram McDaniels got some publicity on the show. Cecil and I disagree on the best candidate for mayor. I prefer the Faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home because she has been so helpful to me recently, hasn't set fire to anything important and promised she won't watch when Cecil stays over. Cecil has a thing for a certain five headed dragon. I wouldn't mind if they never met, I mean he can like as many movie stars as he wants, but he spends time with local politicians as part of his job and his liking for that dragon makes me jealous. But I won't tell him that in case he thinks I'm being silly or too possessive or don't trust him. I told myself that he comes home to me, that's what counts.  


The rest of Cecil's show was not so light-hearted. We have all noticed that there are some new helicopters hovering above town for the past week or so. I barely notice the usual blue, black and bird-of-prey camouflage helicopters any more. The new helicopters are yellow and always operate in groups of at least three, hovering for several minutes before moving on. The City Council initially urged fear and panic, which is quite unhelpful.  


The appearance of the yellow helicopters coincided with an interesting but concerning scientific phenomenon. Larry Leroy, a farmer on the edge of town, contacted us to find out why he had received no sunlight for two days last week. He reported that the sun had not risen at all and that a man in a tan jacket had come round to ask about it. His recollection of the man was hazy, Larry could not even remember the man’s name clearly. Larry keeps detailed weather records and could show me data in his weather log book detailing precisely when the sunlight failed to appear. I suggested that perhaps something had blocked the sunlight from reaching his property but could not imagine what would be capable of producing such a profound shadow. I left a network of ground-level light sensors to record and map light levels remotely at Larry’s farm in case it happens again. Larry claimed he saw a dark line in the sky leading towards Josie's house then started weeping uncontrollably. I left him to recover on his own.  


Cecil had more information about the missing sunlight. He reported that Josie has been affected, her "angels" disappeared three weeks ago. I have seen tall, dark, barely-there figures around Josie. The official stance is that angels do not exist therefore they cannot have vanished, but Josie is very convincing and usually reliable. There is no scientific evidence for the existence of angels. But, as Cecil reminds me often, there is no scientific evidence against their existence either and many things I thought impossible have happened here. My mind is as open as it can be on this matter given the lack of evidence either way.  


Josie reported that there were six yellow helicopters circling her house and simultaneously she lost sunlight completely. Each helicopter had a triangular logo with a yellow S. This jogged a memory with me. Not a good one, but I couldn't pin it down. Her phone cut off just as she said the sunlight had returned. I would like to investigate whether the darkness at Josie's house was the same as the darkness at Larry's farm.  


The yellow helicopters dropped leaflets which said:  
 _Strexcorp Synernists Inc._  
 _Look around you: Strex_  
 _Look inside you: Strex_  
 _Go to sleep: Strex_  
 _Believe in a smiling god._  
 _Strexcorp, it is everything._

I freaked out when I saw one. Completely. I picked up a leaflet outside the lab and looked at it when I sat down at my bench. Everyone was out doing fieldwork except Ell, who seems not to have noticed and slipped out, locking me in. I stared at the logo, remembering things that could not possibly have happened. Remembering impossible places where I had seen that logo before. On Ell's accounts. On the back of a clipboard in a very different lab from mine. On the pocket of a lab-coat being worn by someone who looked like me. On a vial that was being used to fill a syringe. On the straps on a neighbouring hospital bed securing a patient who had hair like Cecil's.  


I crumpled the leaflet and threw it across the lab, as far away as possible. Struggling to control my breathing, I curled up under my bench and rocked back and forwards until I felt safe enough to emerge. The lab was still empty. I went upstairs to my apartment to listen to the radio, pace the room and wait for Cecil.  


His news did not calm me. He corrected the City Council's warning and said that the new helicopters are completely safe because Strexcorp recently bought the radio station. He sounded unsure reading this, gave a little nervous laugh which I know means he is afraid. He said Strexcorp has come to Night Vale, we understand everything and are not misunderstanding anything else at all. We are completely... ...safe.  


And something like: stay tuned next for the sound of dripping and screams. I am not misunderstanding anything.  


He arrived late at my apartment looking upset and flustered. We clung together, unable to articulate our fears. We stood, arms tight around each other for minutes. Not moving, not talking. Eventually we moved to sit together, not losing physical contact. I started to tell Cecil about my memories of the Strex logo. He clamped his hand over my mouth and shook his head, mouthing "not here". I understood. "Drive?" I whispered. He nodded and we left the apartment.  


Cecil drove us out into the beautiful desolation of the sand wastes, turning off the lights and driving by a meagre sliver of moonlight. We left the car and walked far enough away from it that any listening devices would not pick up our conversation. We sat on a blanket and I told him all my deranged half-memories. He listened, did not dismiss anything I said as insane. He told me what he knew about re-education and about his experience of the sandstorm. About why he hated Desert Bluffs so intensely. Afterwards, we sat in silence, processing all that we had learned from each other. We agreed that Strex must be stopped.  


I told Cecil about Kiran's message and the book I had been keeping for Tamika. He said that he knows Tamika quite well and is in contact with her, sometimes leaving her coded messages hidden in his show. He would arrange for the book to be given to Tamika but said it was best if I didn't know details. I asked him if he could arrange a secure hiding place for my old lab book. He said yes.  


We lay back on the rug, holding hands and watching the sky. This wasn't how I imagined a clear night in the sand wastes with Cecil would turn out.  


Cecil said we must protect our town from all outsiders. I asked him what he meant, I am an outsider. He said that I belong in Night Vale, that I am not an outsider but someone who has always belonged here and was born in the wrong place. I have to admit, for all the uncertainty, terror, nightmares and surreal experiences, I feel more at home here with Cecil than anywhere else I have ever been.


End file.
